


Grew my hair long and broke all the rules

by waferkya



Category: Basketball RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waferkya/pseuds/waferkya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juan Carlos gets a haircut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grew my hair long and broke all the rules

“There’s nothing attractive about getting a haircut,” Pau says, and he’s never been so wrong in his life, not even when he thought that maybe, Mike D’Antoni might be just right for the team.

The only thing that allows him to save a tiny bit of self-respect is the fact that he, at least, realizes the mistake early on; but he’s still powerless, because this is Marc’s thing now and there’s no chance in hell, heaven or any place inbetween that Marc takes pity on him and backs off.

Juan Carlos tips his head forward, pliant and relaxed as Marc cards his fingers through his soft, long-ish hair, checking for knots. Pau can only stare and bite his lip in a desperate attempt not to groan.

“Can I give you a mohawk?” Marc asks, a big grin practically audible in his voice. Juan Carlos glares up at him. “Okay, fine, geez. We’re back to the fauxhawk then?”

“What the he—uhm, chocolate peppermint crunch is a fauxhawk?” Juan Carlos asks. They’ve been tuning down cursing from religion-related things to ice cream flavours for the summer camps they all are going to attend, where they’re going to be surrounded by children and you can’t really let your mouth run free.

Marc smirks, and runs his hands through Juan Carlos’ hair until it’s sticking up, sort of like in a mohawk; but it’s too long to stand on its own, and the moment Marc pulls his fingers away, the hair flops down messily.

Pau breathes out hard.

“Your usual haircut,” Marc explains, tugging at a strand of hair right above Juan Carlos’ ear. “You know which one, you just wore it for thirty-two years before you decided to go all… John Lennon-y.”

Juan Carlos is blushing. Pau breathes out _very_ hard.

“Why would you call that a fauxhawk?” he mumbles.

“Because,” Marc says, dragging out the word like he’s trying to get an aneurysm victim to understand quantistic physics. “It looks kinda like a mohawk, with the silly spiky top, but it’s not a real mohawk because the hair on the sides is not shaven, just cropped.”

“Your hair is silly,” Juan Carlos grumbles, and then, as an afterthought, “Chocolate Fudge-bag.”

“That sounds delicious, I’m flattered!” Marc turns to throw Pau a big grin. “Your boyfriend thinks I’m delicious, bro. Anyways!” Before Pau can suggest he goes cake-battering himself, Marc whips around again and brushes back Juan Carlos’ bangs, thick and slightly curled, exposing his forehead. “Are we getting rid of that?”

“No, I kinda like it, actually,” Juan Carlos says, glancing at Pau. “Not that I’d let _you_ cut it off anyway.”

“Hey! I’m a professional,” Marc pouts. “Who d’you think does my hair, huh?”

Juan Carlos arches an eyebrow. “Cristina?”

“Yes, exactly, and I’ve learned everything there is to know from her. But, fine, okay, the bangs stay. Not because you say so, but because they make you look so cute.”

Juan Carlos turns a bright, cherry red, but he doesn’t argue. Pau stands up abruptly, because if he doesn’t get his hands on _that_ he’s pretty sure he might just die, but Marc gives him a stern look.

“Sit back, you said this wasn’t attractive, so don’t you dare being attracted.”

Pau wants to point out that he deemed the _act_ of getting one’s hair cut not attractive _per se_ ; of course when you throw Juan Carlos into it, everything suddenly scores a big fat number you can’t really pronounce on the attractiveness scale.

He sits back, though, because he doesn’t think Marc would listen.

“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking,” Marc says, and he grabs a razor and a comb from the kitchen table where all his haircutting stuff is laid out, in a couiffeur-ish parody of a torturer’s toolkit. “Short-ish on the sides, like over your ears and the nape of your neck because it’s getting out of hand, Juanqui, and then I’ll trim everything else, just a bit, so it doesn’t get in your eyes. Yeah?”

“I understood maybe twenty percent of what you just said,” Juan Carlos says, a bit too cheerfully for his standard, so he’s probably about to drop something bad, like the promise of a certain, slow and painful death. “But yeah, please, go on. If you fu—ah, vanilla caramel me up, I’ll have my revenge.”

Yeah, just like that.

Marc looks unconcerned; he smiles, and turns the razor on. Juan Carlos tips his head to the side, and when the first lock of thick hair drops, crumbling on the towel around his shoulders, Pau can’t fight back a tiny, pathetic whimper.

Juan Carlos smiles.

“Stop molesting my hair with your mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello I have weird kinks, one of which is, you guessed it, people cutting their hair and/or beard (which is why [this video](http://vimeo.com/6613877) is for me what porn is to other people usually). And [Juanca's hair](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BOVJW4-CQAE8TKt.jpg) did look a bit different at the Nike Camp, I'm not seeing things.
> 
> "Cursing in ice cream" is one of the most brilliant things I've ever read and of course, it wasn't my idea; all credit is due to [deforrestkelley](http://deforrestkelley.tumblr.com) over at tumblr, I couldn't find her original post but [this is an example](http://deforrestkelley.tumblr.com/post/55812581409).


End file.
